


December 7th - Snowed In - Day 1

by mind_and_malady



Series: December 2014 [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathtubs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2747585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_and_malady/pseuds/mind_and_malady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Less a day, more of an early morning fuck in the bathroom in a vague attempt at getting warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December 7th - Snowed In - Day 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetonmeclarence (redmasque)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmasque/gifts).



> Shameless porn, yet again. Sorry. I can't seem to help myself.  
> Sweetonmeclarence, you're getting every. single. one. of these Snowed In pieces. They're all your fault.

The bunker is utterly frozen when Sam wakes up. He shivers, trying to curl further into the blanket, but it's no good. Solid concrete plus a dozen feet of snow is a surefire recipe for cold. He forces himself to get up, even when a glance at the clock tells him that it's still really early and that he should probably stay in bed.

Fuck it. Sam is _cold_. He'll take a bath at ass o’clock in the morning he wants to.

He runs the water until it's steaming, almost too hot to touch, and then sinks into it with a long sigh. The tub wasn't quite long enough for his legs, leaves him with his knees knocking against the sides, but he doesn't much care at the moment, lolls his head back against the tub and closes his eyes. The water is hot and Sam is _warm_.

"It's a little early for a bath."

Sam opens his eyes to see Lucifer shutting the door. "My room was cold," he explains, making no effort at hiding the way his eyes move across Lucifer's body as the angel divests himself of his clothes.

Lucifer pauses, thumbs already hooked in his boxers. "Perhaps I shouldn't join, then," he sighs. “The water will get cold.”

Sam says nothing. He just holds out a hand and beckons for Lucifer to come closer. When he complies, Sam sits up, hooks an arm around his neck, and seals their lips together in a slow kiss while his free hand slides into Lucifer's boxers and wraps around him. Lucifer growls out a feral noise that sounds awfully similar to, " _Sam_."

"Get in here already," Sam breathes, and Lucifer's last bit of clothing hits the ground just before he steps into the tub and sinks into Sam's lap. He rolls his hips sinuously against Sam's, and they both groan.

Lucifer's forehead bumps against Sam's before he leans down to mouth at his neck. “I think,” he murmurs, teeth grazing over Sam’s pulse, hands roaming from Sam’s shoulders to his chest, “that it is possible to become addicted to you. I can’t ever seem to get enough of you, of _this_.”

Sam scratches his nails down Lucifer’s spine, and he shudders, body going momentarily limp in Sam’s lap. “Really?” he muses, manages to hold a perfectly even tone. “I wonder why.”

Lucifer growls something filthy and foreign against Sam’s neck, and then sinks his teeth in. Sam gasps, neck immediately bending to accommodate Lucifer’s mouth. He lavishes the skin with his tongue, rolling it between his teeth and sucking it until, when he pulls back, a pale bruise already blooming under reddened skin.

“I’m not sure,” Lucifer answers, eyes so close to Sam’s face that they’re overwhelming. “I’m still trying to figure that one out.” Then his mouth meets Sam’s again, cool and open and inviting, and Sam can’t hold back his quiet moan as he twines a wet hand in Lucifer’s hair, other arm wrapping around Lucifer’s waist to keep them pinned together. Lucifer melts into it, choosing to be pliable now that he's made his mark.

Sam’s mouth moves to Lucifer’s jaw, teeth nipping at the hard edges of it while his hand slides lower, groping and almost certainly bruising the skin of Lucifer’s ass. Lucifer groans thickly, his hips grinding down into Sam’s, and Sam can’t help but thrust up against the friction. They build up a rhythm, just the greedy push and shove of hips and the sloshing of water that somehow hasn’t managed to go over the sides yet. Sam reaches lower, fingers brushing against Lucifer’s opening lightly, and Lucifer gasps, immediately switching gears and pushing back against Sam’s fingers to take one in. Sam tries to be careful, because even if Lucifer is unbreakable the last thing he wants is to hurt him. He does _try_.

But then Lucifer snarls, “Just fuck me already, Sam,” and he loses it, pulling his fingers free and lifting Lucifer by the hips and guiding him onto his cock. Lucifer lets out a wrecked noise, head falling to Sam’s shoulder as he grinds backward, nails digging into Sam’s shoulder blades hard enough to sting. He thrusts up, and Lucifer moans, lifts himself almost all the way off of Sam before coming back down. This rhythm is faster than the first but just as greedy and twice as messy, water splashing over the sides, not that they notice.

“Sam,” Lucifer chokes out his name around tiny, hiccupping breaths. “Sam, Sam, _Sam_ -”

Lucifer cries out as he comes, and Sam crushes it back into his mouth with a bruising kiss, still thrusting up into the surprising heat of him. Lucifer rocks back against him mindlessly, still half lost, mouth open and swollen red from violent kisses, body damp, hair knotted and wild, and it’s the image of him, really, that sends Sam tumbling over the edge.

Minutes later, they’re both still gasping, Lucifer slumped against Sam’s chest, Sam’s hands still tight on Lucifer’s waist. But eventually Sam realizes that the water is cooling - and sort of gross, actually - so he stands and carries Lucifer out of the tub and sets him on the counter, head leaning against the mirror as Sam fetches a clean towel and dries the both of them off.

“Luce,” Sam tries to rouse him. “Lucifer. You can’t sleep here, sweetheart, and I refuse to carry you back to our room.”

Lucifer blinks his eyes half-open. “Sweetheart?” he murmurs, sighing as Sam runs a hand from his shoulder down to his hip.

“It’s an endearment,” Sam explains. “Now c’mon, get up, I’m still not carrying you.”

Lucifer grumbles, but finally obliges, sliding down from the counter, only to wrap his arms around Sam’s chest in a tired hug. He’s always like this after Sam fucks him, loose and tired and cuddly, relaxed in a way he normally isn’t, and it’s a ton of effort to get him to do any kind of simple tasks afterward. Which is why Sam makes a point of always fucking Lucifer at night, in bed, when it’s easier to let Lucifer reside in his bubble.

It takes them a solid three minutes to walk the dozen yards to their room, both of them naked, Lucifer still hanging on to Sam. Sam’s sort of worried that Dean or Cas will for some reason be awake and see them, but they make it there without incident, and Lucifer collapses on the bed with a sleepy grumble. It’s a miracle that Lucifer dropped on the portion of the bed not covered by blankets, because Sam can just slide in behind him and cover them both with blankets.

“Sam,” Lucifer murmurs, turning to curl against him as he flings an arm across Sam’s chest, head resting on his shoulder.

“Go to sleep, Luce,” Sam whispers to him, leaning forward just enough to drop a kiss on his forehead. With a sigh, Lucifer succumbs to sleep, sucking all the heat from Sam’s body and the air, but it doesn’t bother Sam now. He’d rather freeze and have Lucifer than be warm alone.


End file.
